


The Ishvalan Alchemist

by andicanthelpfallinginlovewithyou



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Haha i dont know where im going with this, Ishvalan Allura, Ishvalan-amestrian coran, Pidge and her family are saami bc i saw one (1) heacanon and fell in love, Tags may change as the story progresses, allura wears a hijab and shes a lot like samirah from the Magnus series, basically the alteans are ishvalan and the galra are the higher ranking military, but if im doing anything offensive please tel me, everyone deserves good rep, im rewatching fmab and felt a mighty need, keith and allura are buds and its great, keith and pidge are also buds, shiro is keiths uncle in this just go with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-04-24 02:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14346027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andicanthelpfallinginlovewithyou/pseuds/andicanthelpfallinginlovewithyou
Summary: After surviving the Ishvalan genocide, Allura attempts human transmutation to bring her father back, assisting by Coran. When it fails, they have no choice but to begin chasing after stories and half-truths, philosopher’s stones and secrets hidden by the military’s highest ranking officials.Well, that didnt go as planned. I will be extending my hiatus until ive finished the next season, and i will probably be editing this work to reflect Space Dad’s relationship with Earth Dad in the mean time. #Shadam





	1. Chapter 1

The world was quiet. 

Allura laid on her bed of shattered stone, struggling to breath through the ash and filth in the air. Her eyes burned. 

When she sat up, her chest spasmed, and she coughed up grey phlegm, spotted with blood. Calmly, in the way of alchemy, she sat very still and took stock of herself. Nothing was injured, and the blood was most likely from when she had bitten her lip. She could move her fingers and her toes, and when she pushed herself to her feet, she could keep her balance, if barely. 

The wreckage was devastating. Her home of Ishval, reduced to nothing by Amestrians and their alchemy. The holy city was levelled, and she couldn’t hear the screams of her people. Either they had evacuated, or-

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember. She had seen an Amestrian soldier watching her and her family, watching malevolently from atop a small building. She had seen him smile, had seen him raise his hands to bring death upon them. It was enough to spur her forward, to throw herself in front of her father, Coran, and many others, to use her alchemy to create a shield. But she hadn’t been fast enough, and the ensuing explosion had left her temporarily deaf but for a faint ringing, had thrown her back. She had seen her father rushing to engage the Amestrian before she blacked out. 

And now she was in the outskirts of the city. Her feet were bare, and the unrelenting heat of the desert made the stones hot and painful to walk over. 

She looked around wearily. The sun beat down mercilessly, the glaring light bouncing off of a pale arm-

She cried out and rushed to the still form of Coran. She sobbed as she checked for a pulse, heaving breathless gasps as she felt his heartbeat flutter under her fingers. He was alive, but bleeding profusely from his forehead, the blood obscuring one of his pigment-less Ishvalan markings. Even if he was pale for a people that made the desert their home, his fair skin coming from an Amestrian father, the small scale marks under his eyes were still visible. 

“Coran?” She reached out to feel for broken bones, but stopped herself. She wasn’t a doctor, and she was just as likely to make everything worse as she was to make it better. 

He moaned through blood-stained lips. 

She struggled to control her whimpers as she pulled his arm over her shoulders and helped him up. One of his legs immediately buckled. 

She breathed hard and looked around. She remembered that there was a doctor in the western outskirts of the holy city, just an hour’s walk. She pointed herself towards the sunset and started walking. 

-

It was twilight when she got there. The tent was still standing, and the occasional doctor rushed in and out of the open tent flaps, ducking around the corner for more suppiles. 

“Many thanks, Ishvala,” she whispered. She nudged Coran. “Hey, Coran, we’re almost there.” 

He moaned, eyes open but unseeing. He had been hallucinating for nearly two hours, and he felt feverish. 

She grunted and kept walking. In the gloom, she could see a man crouching by the entrance, head bowed and shoulders trembling with overexertion, or maybe grief. 

Her voice was raw with breathing in the polluted air, but she made an effort anyway. 

“Healer!” she shouted, trying to move faster. Coran was heavy. 

The man looked up, obviously lacking for rest and reprieve. She breathed a sigh of relief; he did not have the vicious yellow eyes that the Amestrians were known for, thankfully. In fact, the shape of his eyes and the way he softly cursed convinced her that he was of Drachma, perhaps one of the indigenous groups of the north. 

He shouted for assistance, and rushed towards them. Her breathing was ragged and scraped her throat raw. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Allura.”

“Okay, Allura, we’re going to take care of you.” Two more healers rushed out with a stretcher, and she allowed Coran to be taken away. A third healer arrived, with another stretcher. 

“No-“ she tried to say, and coughed harshly into her fist. “I can walk.” 

The man nodded and waved the third away. He guided her into the tent and had her sit on one of the beds. Her skin crawled. The air was thick with illness, the tent overcrowded and undersupplied. A boy, perhaps her age, was rushing to and fro between the beds, changing dressings and offering food or water. By the slump of his back, he had not slept either. 

The man knelt by her and gently checked her over. “Allura, can you tell me where you are?” 

“Ishval, the holy city.” She bit down on her lip, eyes welling with tears. “What was the holy city.” 

He nodded. “How old are you?” 

“Thirteen.” 

“My, Katie just a year or two below you!” He nodded to the boy. “That’s my son, Matt. Can you tell me who that man is?” He pointed to Coran. The boy was frantically mixing some kind of elixir, and another healer was setting his leg. 

“Coran.” 

“Is he your legal guardian?” 

She tried to think. Her father had requested, should he die before she was of age, that Coran would be her guardian, but she still held out hope that he was alive. “If my father is dead.” 

“Do you know where your father is now?” He was shining a light in her eyes. 

“No.” 

“Okay, then I’ll defer to his judgement after your guardianship.” He sighed and clicked off the light. “You seem to be in regular health, Allura, besides that cough. I can give you some tea, but the best remedy for that is a good long rest.” 

“Okay.” 

He stood and moved the the head of the cot, fluffing the pillows and pulling back the meagre blanket. “Why don’t you lie down, and it’ll all look better in the morning.” 

She complied, letting the healer tuck her in like a child. As he stood to leave, she grabbed the back of his coat. 

“Sir?” 

He turned back, smiling warmly. “You can call me Sam.” 

She nodded, and shakily pointed to Coran’s bed. “Sam, is he going to be okay?” 

He nodded. “Of course, Allura. Everything will be right as rain when you wake up.” 

His words were comforting, and her body was finally feeling the fatigue of the day. Sleep came swiftly, like the destruction of the holy city.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura and Coran attempt to do the impossible, and pay dearly for it.

Coran prodded her awake. She came to blearily, a question on her lips. Her bed was sectioned off from the rest of the tent with a white cloth. She was sure it hadn’t been when she fell asleep.

He shook his head, eyes wide. He pointed to the entrance of the tent. She could see a flash of blue military uniform through the flap. And the glare of sunlight off of the barrel of a gun.

He beckoned her to follow him to the back of the tent, out into the sun. She could clearly hear the soldiers shouting, and when she look around the corner of the tent, she could see all of the healers and the patients lined up, on their knees. Sam and his son were kneeling at the end of the line, heads bowed and hands clasped behind their heads. 

The Amestrians were gesticulating, and from that distance she couldn’t understand them. One of them snapped and gestured to Sam with his handgun. Sam tensed, limbs trembling. The soldier spoke sharply. Sam raised his head slowly, staring down the barrel of a gun. 

Allura screamed, and Coran grabbed her arm. He dragged her onto a horse and hopped on after her, handing her the reigns. He pulled out a gun of his own. 

She threw herself forward and snapped the reigns, urging the horse toward one of the roads leading north. 

Above her head, Coran fired his shots, calm and steady as he was trained to be. He fired his last shot just as Allura brought them to the north end of the holy city, the ruins providing them with cover until they were too far away to shoot. His hand resting on her shoulder kept her steady, giving her the strength she needed to urge the horse further down the road. 

Eventually, they came to a fork, one leading to the desert and eventually into Xing, and the other pointing north, back into Greater Amestris. 

She slid off of the horse, feeling more grounded when her feet were on solid earth. “Where should we go?” 

Coran sighed, still pained by his leg. “To Eastern Amestris. Rush Valley is a good place for people like us to go.” He dropped the gun onto the ground. “Once we get back on our feet, we’ll see.” 

She looked longingly back at the holy city, now little more than Xerxes. And then she started walking. 

-

Reading, always reading. Her father was dead, and she couldn’t seem to stop reading.  
She had to know more. She had to bring him back.

-

Coran had grown suspicious of her constant presence in her bedroom. He stood in the doorway, brow furrowed as he stared at the matrix chalked on the floor. Allura stared back at her place in the centre, holding onto a bag of salt.

“Coran, I can explain-“ 

“Allura, you can’t do this.” He sounded so sad, so defeated.

She chewed on her lip. “But it could work. If Papa was here-“

“Human transmutation is illegal, Petal. You know this. It isn’t worth it.” He stepped forward, squeezing her shoulder in comfort. “Illegal and dangerous.”

She seethed with anger, and pushed him away. “How can you say that? Don’t you want him back? Didn’t you love him?” 

He paled. She closed her mouth with an audible click and felt her face heat up, angry with herself.  
“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, head bowed. “I just want to see him again.” 

He sighed. When she looked up, he gently took her face and brushed his thumbs over her cheek-marks, the most comforting of parental affection. 

“I can’t let you do this, Allura, but if you won’t be stopped, I’ll help you.” He grew determined. “Whatever you need from me, I’ll give to you.” 

-

Everything had gone wrong. 

Allura had collapsed on top of the matrix, squinting at the thing in the centre. It was deformed, horribly mangled, only vaguely in the shape of a man. It stretched, reaching toward her. With a cough, it expelled a fountain of blood, and laid still. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing hard. The stumps where her legs used to be hurt more than anything, a pool of blood bloomed under her, slicking the wooden floor beneath her.

“Coran,” she wheezed. “Coran, it didn’t work.” 

Coran was silent. 

She looked over. All the remained were his clothes, his body gone. Something terrible had happened.

“Coran!” She tried to stand, and fell. She frantically dragged herself over, accidentally knocking over a suit of traditional Ishavalan armour. His clothes were cold, as if he had been gone for a long time.

She cried out as her muscles seized, and couldn’t hold back her tears. “Coran! Coran, come back!” 

She was losing too much blood. For a moment, a matrix flashed in her head, not one that she had seen before. Without thinking, she knew what it could do. It could bind a soul to an tangible object, when a body was no longer an option.

Her chalks and charcoals were too far away, at the other end of her room. She smeared her palm against the blood pooling beneath her, falling forward and knocking the helmet out of the way.

Coran had always loved this armour, had always wanted for an opportunity to wear it, back home.

She traced a shaky matrix onto the inside of the neckpiece, breathing harder and harder to stay awake. She clenched her teeth against the pain and placed the final mark, connecting the circle. 

She pressed her forehead against the floor. The idea of praying to a god that insulted Ishvala made her sick, but she did it anyway. “Take my legs, take my body, take my life,” she chanted. “Give me Coran’s soul, give me his life. I pray to thee, Ishvala, grant me my humble request!” 

Without thinking, she clasped her hands, almost in prayer. 

-

_“Back so soon?”_

She was back in the white place. She tried to calm herself. White was the colour of death, after all, and pain and suffering. 

_“Ah, I see.”_

She yelled as her arm was unmade, unravelling in a long strand and rewinding around Truth’s body. They flexed their new arm, humming to them-self and observing the way the stark light reflecting off of her dark skin. 

They focussed on her, their gaze pinning her down and filling her chest with dread. _”Your life won’t be necessary. Pleasure doing business with you.”_

The sudden change from bright white to the gloom of the basement made her blind, and her last arm was too weak to hold herself up. Her entire front was damp with blood. 

Coran sounded sleepy. “Allura?” 

She laughed, her chest bursting for joy, and then she began to cry. She was dangerously close to dying, but Coran wasn’t. Surely that warranted a little rest-

“Allura!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to try to update on a weekly basis, but i had this already written so i decided to post it. Starting now, im going to try and keep a weekly update.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Keith, stage centre, Liore.

Keith stared at the sky, swaying gently on the spot. It was hot in Liore, but he stubbornly refused to shuck his State Alchemist uniform. “Are we almost done?” 

Allura snorted, stretching her automail. While her legs were crafted from steel, her arm was lighter, made from a mix of lighter materials. Hunk had looked at her funny for it, but she found she enjoyed the weights on her legs too much to worry herself. “We just got here.” Her shoulder socket cracked, audibly and satisfactorily. She sighed, rolling her shoulders.

He hummed. “I can’t believe I got bribed into a quest for the philosopher’s stone.” 

“It’s not a bribe. I just convinced you.” She knelt, rubbing the dusty dirt between her gloved fingers and feeling the quality of the earth. It smelled somewhat like sulphur. She huffed and stood, adjusting the elaborate up-do she had forced her hair into. Her silk headscarf was folded up in her pocket, her green wrap-gown clasped loosely around her waist with a bronze clip, over a yellow dress. 

Keith sniffed and scratched his nose. His hair was already damp with sweat. “Right. What am I getting out of this, again?” He scuffed the platform with his boot.

She patted his shoulder awkwardly. “The satisfaction of assisting a noble mission?” 

He made a face and crossed his arms. “The philosopher’s stone is in this place?” 

She looked out over the town from the platform they stood on. The tallest structure was the church’s spire, in the centre of the town, a long walk from the train platform. Cornello apparently lived in the barracks, remnants of when the church was a military house. It was a small town, and even then she could hear a faint sermon, oozing through a radio somewhere in the station.

“It might be.” 

He looked around. The wind kicked up, and he sneezed, rather aggressively. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I became a State Alchemist.” 

She had to wonder what he did think was going to happen, seeing as when they met he was wandering around Rush Valley with little other urges than to eat and find a place to sleep. 

She kept patting his shoulder. “Then you should have became something else.” She looked around, her suitcase hitting her leg as she turned.  
“Where’s Coran?” 

Keith pointed behind her. “Food.” 

Almost on cue, Coran came running back, armed with a large plate of food. He pushed it under her nose. “Petal, eat this.” 

“You see? I don’t even have a choice anymore.” She carefully picked up a crab claw, and snapped it in half. It was seasoned with lemon and pepper. She groaned in appreciation, and inhaled about a third of the plate’s contents. “Keith, try some of this.” 

He stepped forward, taking some of the finger foods. After taking a bite, the rest of the plate soon followed. 

He licked his fingers. “Stuff’s good.” 

Coran nodded appreciatively. “Excellent! I have the recipe!” His beige notebook disappeared into one of the recesses of his armour. He turned and looked out over the town, strangely expressive despite the fact that he didn’t have a face. 

His armour was really quite impressive. His helmet had a grated visor, and a flat face-guard that was tailored to his face. The rest of his helmet was threaded with hair from a lion’s mane, dark and soft. His shoulder-pauldrons were ornately crafted in the likeness of roaring lions, and his chest-plate was polished and gleaming. 

Allura grinned at Keith. “See? You’re getting paid in food, basically.”

He waved away her teasing. “Should we go in? What’s with this guy Cornello?” 

She started walking. Her stumps weren’t aching; rain was far away. Coran matched her pace on one side, Keith on the other. “People have been saying that he’s a miracle-worker, bringing people back from the dead, that kind of stuff. He’s amassed quite a following. I’ve listened to some of his archived sermons, too, and apparently he’s created sculptures of stone from plant matter.”

“And you think it’s some kind of alchemy?” Keith asked, struggling to keep up with her longer strides. 

“It must be. The only miracles I know are at the will of Ishvala, and she doesn’t bring people back from the dead.” She rubbed her metal shoulder. “And she doesn’t show such frivolous gestures of power, either.” 

-

The church was closer than she thought. Before long, the massive doors loomed over them. Allura paused, taking out her headscarf and wrapping it securely around her head, until only her face was visible. After securing it with a pin, she pushed inside, walking among the pews and toward the alter. Someone was already there, head bowed and praying before an array of lit candles and smoking incense. 

She took a deep breath and stepped forward. It was rude to interrupt a prayer, and she no intention of doing so. But, she figured that it would be all right to pray to Ishvala while she waited. 

She knelt before the alter, sharing the candles and incense. She clasped her hands together and quietly began to pray. Coran knelt down beside her, gently humming an old Ishvalan hymn to thank Ishvala for Her graces. 

It wasn’t long before the girl finished her prayer. “Thank you for joining me,” she said, standing and brushing off her knees. “You are travellers, yes?” 

Allura nodded, pushing herself to her feet. “Yes. I’m investigating a possible lead to a philosopher’s stone.” 

“And you’ve come to ask Father? I’m sure he can help you.” 

Keith cleared his throat. “What kind of miracles does he perform?” 

The girl beamed. “Oh, many kinds! Through God’s will, he heals the sick and blesses the poor, and he can bring the dead back to life!” She clasped her hands together. “He says, if I pray enough, and keep myself virtuous, he will be allowed to bring my Jonathon back. He was killed, last year.”

Keith remained impassive. 

Allura bowed her head. “That sounds incredible. Can we meet him?” 

The girl nodded, leading the way into the hall and towards another large door. “Father Cornello doesn’t usually see people outside of appointments, but I’m sure he’d make an exception for you three.” 

Keith leaned over to Allura. “What’re you gonna do if he’s legit? Remember the railroad incident?” 

“Shut up, smart-ass, that was one time.” 

“Yeah, one time, and he turned out to be making diamonds from coal.” He covered his face. “That was so embarrassing.” 

Coran couldn’t seem to resist jumping in on the fun. “That was a spectacular loss of temper, Allura.” 

She considered elbowing the both of them in the gut, but decided that they were trying to bait her. She straightened and schooled her face into neutrality.

The girl pushed open the door and stepped into the large room, gloomy but for some torches lining the wall. “Father Cornello?” 

A man turned around. He was at the top of a flight of stairs, and loomed over them. Allura could see the bright red flash of his ring even at a distance. She narrowed her eyes and tugged on her sleeves. 

“Rose, what a pleasant surprise.” He nodded to Keith, Allura, and Coran. “Are these your friends?” 

“No, Father, they seek your wisdom.” 

“Hm.” He looked down at them imperiously. “Welcome, my children. What knowledge do you seek?” 

She and Coran both tensed, disliking the man already. She stepped forward, her steps echoing in the cavern. “We’re following a lead, Father. About a philosopher’s stone.” 

He cocked his head. “I’m afraid I know nothing of the kind, my child.” 

She twitched her head irritably. “I am Ishvala’s child, not yours. And I would appreciate honesty. Your ‘miracles’ are nothing more than party tricks, and you’ve been lying to these people. The dead cannot breath new life.” 

He smiled condescendingly. “And how do you know that? Anything is possible by God’s will.” 

She took a deep breath. “The human body is made of thirty-five litres of water, twenty kilograms of carbon, four litres of ammonia, one and a half kilograms of lime, eight hundred grams of phosphorus, two hundred and fifty grams of salt, one hundred grams of salt peter, eighty grams of sulfur, seven and a half grams of flourine, five grams of iron, three grams of silicon, plus fifteen other trace elements.” She threw her arms wide. “All these materials can be bought in the market, and baring that they can be made by a good chemist. But a body is not a substitute for human life, or a soul. And I’ve met your God. They are not so generous to give one’s life back without payment.” She tugged on her sleeves, spine straight.

Cornello glared at her, and turned his attention to Rose. “Rose, these people are heathens, coming to destroy our way of life.” 

Rose looked up, confused. “What-“

“She is Ishvalan, child. They know nothing but violence.” Cornello pulled out a gun. “And don’t think I haven’t heard of the Berserker Alchemist. Monikers such as that are not given lightly. These nonbelievers are going to take away your only chance of seeing Jonathon again. Do you think that’s fair?” He carefully took aim, and fired. 

-

The bullet hit a stone wall, erected between them and the Father. Rose squeaked in fear and backed away. 

When the smoke cleared, Allura peaked her head around the wall. Cornello was pale, his mouth hanging open. “The next time you speak ill of Ishval, I would ensure that your victim is not an alchemist herself.” She clapped and held out her hand, seizing the staff that transmuted from the stone floor. She cleanly snapped off the tip, testing the weight in her hand. She was getting better at multitasking. “And you talk about fairness? You draw a gun on three who are unarmed, and attempt to use the trust that Rose has placed in you to your own ends?”

Cornello shook off his surprise, and took his cane in his hands. “I see that you are talented. Yet you speak of deception, of lies, when you have broken alchemy’s greatest taboo!” He drummed his fingers. “Can alchemy stand against everything, I wonder?” 

She froze. A gurgling sound was coming from the shadows, accompanied by loud, clawed steps. It was said that a lion’s steps accompanied the greatest warriors, and to hear them in your shadow meant that Ishvala smiled upon you. But something told her that the steps coming toward her were not a good omen.

A massive chimera sprung from the darkness, a bear’s head, and a lion’s mane and paws. On its back, feathered wings ruffled themselves, poised to take flight. It was pacing in the light, getting closer to her.

Coran was forcing himself to be calm. “Allura?”

The chimera lunged forward, opening its mouth and clamping down on her right arm. The ringing sound of the collision echoed through the room. The bear jaws were strong, but it was no match for reinforced metal. 

She grunted and clasped her hands together, twisting her forearm and throwing the chimera against the wall. She looked up and saw Cornello making his escape. 

“Keith, with me!” The Chimera sprung, intending to pin her beneath its paws, and leaving its chest exposed. She transmuted the end of her staff to a point, and pierced its heart. The monster fell with an enormous crash. 

She and Keith sprinted up the stairs. Cornello disappeared around the corner, dropping his scarf. They rounded the corner, and promptly threw themselves backward as a gatling gun sprayed bullets. 

Keith gasped for breath. “That’s definitely a philosopher’s stone.” 

She didn’t reply, tearing off the torn sleeve of her wrap-gown, leaving her metal arm exposed. The sleeve was a liability, and she figured that she could fix it later. “I need your water thing.” 

He handed it over, grimacing slightly. “Please don’t wreck it again, this is the third one this month.”

-

A tin container was thrown into the hall. Cornello trained his gun on the object, getting ready to flee in case it was a grenade. It was a thermos. He frowned and stepped forward-

-

Allura ran into the hall, holding the block of ice in her hand. With a mighty throw, she pitched it as hard as she could, sending it to Cornello’s feet before it erupted into steam, filling the hall. 

Cornello yelled and sprayed bullets left and right, hoping to hit her. She swung her staff and knocked him down, pressing the sharp end of the staff over his breastbone. 

“Give up the philosopher’s stone, Cornello,” she panted. The steam was clearing, and Keith was advancing slowly. 

He growled and swiped, swinging his cane, now turned to stone, against her leg with intent to break bone. He yelped with the cane shattered, and her metal leg clanged merrily. 

She gripped the front of his robes, holding him in place. “You know so much about me, you think my arm’s the only thing I lost?” She gave him a shake. “Give me the stone.” 

With trembling hands, he fumbled for the blood-red stone in his ring, managing to knock it onto the floor. 

Before their eyes, the stone jolted and dissolved, the dust carrying off on the breeze. She dropped her hold on him, allowing him to get away. Curious, she touched the ground, rubbing the stone-dust between her fingers. 

“It’s a fake,” she thought aloud. 

She could hear Coran slumping. “Another dead end, then?” 

She sighed and stood, pushing down her irritation. “It looks like it.” She looked down at Cornello, who was cowering. “Who gave that to you?” 

He trembled. “I-I don’t-“

She seized the front of his shirt and scowled. “Tell me-“

She was interrupted by the telltale crack of damaged automail plating. She dropped him and pressed her gloved palm to her metal forearm, the white coming away stained with oil. She had been fighting too hard, and something must have snapped, her mobility suddenly reduced. She backed away, holding her arm. The malfunction felt like a growing pain.

She pointed a shaky finger at him, holding her arm close to her torso. “This isn’t over, priest.” She turned on her heel and walked away, practically stomping back the way she came. 

Rose looked up when she came down the stares. Her face was stained with tears, and she didn’t seem to know what to do with herself. 

Allura came to a stop before her. “That man isn’t safe to be around. I suggest going home.” 

She sobbed, pressing her palms to her blotchy face. “Jonathon,” she breathed. “I’m never going to see him again.” 

She knew what that was like. She had spent months desperately trying to bring her father back, and when it all came crashing down, she was practically paralyzed with grief. Rose never allowed herself to believe that her Jonathon was truly dead, and all of her grief, which should have been spaced out over months or years, was hitting her all at once.

She crouched and patted her shoulder. “Let yourself grieve. And when you can’t cry any longer, put your anger towards something useful. Something that will bring benefit.” She stood, walking past her. “May Ishvala’s light guide you, Rose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im beginning to see the merit of weekly updates


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Shiro! Yay! And his husband, and his daughter.

Keith sighed, his notebook open and splayed on his face. When Allura didn’t react, he sighed again, louder this time. 

She battled with her inability to multitask, trying to read Coran’s cheesy romance over his shoulder and fix her automail at the same time. For long stretches, one was neglected for the other, and very little actually got done.

He sighed again, like a mopey steam engine.

She spat out the screwdriver she held between her teeth. “Yes, Keith?” Her arm was nearly fixed, the only damage a loosened piston that needed tightening, as well as the cracked outer plating. Easily fixed.

“We’re going to Eastern, so I have to head home.” He said it like it was the worst thing in the world.

She was immediately disinterested, turning back to the cheesy romance novel. Diana had socked one of her suitors in the gut for insulting her place in the royal court.

He groaned. “I don’t want to go. Takashi’s gonna give me a noogie.” 

She immediately perked up. “Can we come?” 

He mumbled incoherently, something about betrayal and plotting his revenge. The train sped through the countryside, well on its way to Eastern Command. 

\- 

Keith was hunched over when he knocked on the door, likely weighed down by his suitcase. It was stuffed to the bursting, as he refused to fold his uniform, or anything else. Allura stared at it, wondering if it would explode if she touched it too suddenly. She decided that she didn’t want to make a scene, not when most people were coming home from work.

The door was opened by a man with black hair and a white forelock, dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt and worn jeans. He also had a set of oval wire-framed glasses balanced on his nose, highlighting his mono-lidded eyes and expressive eyebrows. His left arm was missing, his sleeve pinned at mid-bicep. 

The man blinked and smiled at Keith. “Akira!” He pulled Keith into a tight hug, scrubbing his knuckles over his head. “Finally coming home?” 

Keith pried himself from the man’s arms. “Just visiting while I report in. Hello to you too, Takashi.” 

Takashi smiled at Allura and Coran. “And you brought friends! Hello, Akira’s friends.” 

Allura waved. “Hello, man that I don’t know.” She stared pointedly at Keith. 

After a moment, he snapped to attention and pointed at Takashi. “This is Shirogane Takashi, my uncle. But for tax reasons, I call him my brother. Takashi, this is Allura and her guardian Coran. They’re my friends.” 

Takashi smiled warmly and shook both their hands. “Nice to meet you both. Any friend of Akira’s is at least someone worth cooking for. Would you two like to come in?” 

-

Takashi made his way to the kitchen, humming a tune, Coran clanking after him. Keith continued on into the apartment, shedding his military jacket as he went. Allura followed after him, looking at the walls. They were mostly family photos, Takashi and another man, usually holding a child, a little girl with hair in twin braids. The other man was Amestrian, but the child had Xingese heritage, or even farther east.

Others were military photos, Takashi standing with a few other Amestrians and the occasional Xingese person. He wore the blue uniform, and his stars denoted him as a Colonel. There was one with Keith in his State Alchemist uniform, Takashi holding him in a tight, one-armed hug.

Coran had followed Takashi into the kitchen, chatting about spices. Allura followed Keith to one of the bedrooms. It was sparsely decorated, only a bed with tight corners and a picture of three on the nightstand. 

She picked up the frame. A woman with a rat-tail and in military dress was holding a baby with a shock of black hair, and a man, slightly shorter, stood beside them. He had Keith’s smile, and Takashi’s jawline, and a scar bisected his right eyebrow. He wore civilian clothes, and it looked like they were in the desert somewhere.

She breathed in a sigh at the happy scene and set the photo down. 

“Those photos, in the hall; Takashi was in the military?” 

“Mm. He’s a colonel.” 

She hugged her torso. “I see.” She couldn’t help but wonder if he had been in Ishval.

Keith turned to her. “Listen, if you or Coran aren’t comfortable here, we can find somewhere else to stay.” 

She shook her head. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just, your brother seems like a wonderful man.” She remembered the photos of the little girl, how he had looked right at home with her perched in his arms.

Keith smiled. “He is.” 

Her next thought was interrupted by a high-pitched scream. Fearing the worst, she dashed back to the hall, looking for danger. 

The scream came from a little one, which was impressive, considering just how loud it had been. The little girl with twin braids ran into the kitchen, attaching herself to Takashi’s leg happily. She excitedly chattered with him in their native tongue, gesticulating wildly and laughing raucously. He set her on the counter and listened intently, laughing and interjecting exclamations of shock or appreciation. 

The man that had brought her home remained in the entryway, removing his shoes and shucking his coat. His hair was done in an odd fashion, shaved down to the scalp in geometric patterns and allowed to grow to about three inches in others, and upturned, wide-set eyes. 

Keith nudged past her, and walked up the man. He was dwarfed in comparison, and stuck out his hand with an Amestrian greeting on his lips. 

The man, who she guessed must be Ulaz, shook his hand with a warm smile, clapping him on the shoulder and asking a teasing question in Takashi’s language. Keith’s response led her to believe that he was still learning, his words deliberate and a bit slow. 

Ulaz looked up, spotting her. He sidestepped Keith and came forward, holding out his hand. “Hello,” he said. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Ulaz, Akira’s brother-in-law.” 

His eyes were a dull yellow. She wondered if he had been in Ishval too.

She forced herself to smile and shook his hand. “Allura.” 

-

The daughter, Kimiko, fixed Allura with a curious stare from across the dinner table. “Why do you wear that?” She pointed at her headscarf, a nice, creamy shade of brown today, complimenting her earth-toned dress and gown-coat.

Takashi chided her in their language, turning to apologize.

She raised her gloved hand. “It’s no trouble, Mister Shirogane. I wear a headscarf and cover myself because it upholds my values of modesty.”

Kimiko tilted her head, shaping the new word in her mouth. “What does modesty mean?” 

“It’s like when adults cover themselves with clothes, because you’re not allowed to go out in public naked.” Kimiko giggled, but composed herself. “When I wear this, it prevents people from using my looks to apply value to me, and forces them to see my mind instead.” 

Kimiko nodded. “Cool!” 

Takashi nodded to Coran’s plate. “Coran, aren’t you going to eat?” 

Coran laughed. “No, no, I’m fasting.” 

Takashi nodded, and turned to Keith. “So, Akira, you’re reporting to Eastern?”

“Mm.” 

“And after? Just visiting?” 

Keith swallowed his mouthful. “Yeah, we’re heading toward Rush Valley, and then onto Dublith.” 

“Why are you travelling so much?” Ulaz asked. “Even Circuit doesn’t need to cross the country every few days, and I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as hellbent on research as she is. Are you looking for something?” 

Keith erred, and looked to Allura. She sighed and pulled off her gloves, showing off her flesh and metal hands. 

“More accurately, I’m looking for something,” she said, setting her metal arm on the table. Kimiko vibrated in her seat, obviously dying to get a closer look. “I’m borrowing his resources and mobility to look for the philosopher’s stone.” 

Takashi choked on his food and coughed, eyes wide. “The philosopher’s stone? Why would you need something like that?” 

She nodded pointedly at Kimiko, a pained expression on her face. 

Ulaz stood and cleared his throat. “Time for bed, Kimi,” he said quietly, scooping her up and carrying her off. Takashi watched them leave before turning back to her. 

“I performed the taboo,” she admitted. “I tried to bring my father back from the dead, and for it I paid with my legs, and Coran paid with his whole body.” Coran slowly took off his helmet, setting it gently on his plate. He leaned forward, showing the transmutation circle on the inside of his neckpiece. “That’s why I need the philosopher’s stone. It’s the only way that I can restore our bodies, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.” 

“Even endanger my brother?” 

She blinked. She hadn’t expected overprotectiveness from someone with military history. “With all due respect, Mister Shirogane, Keith can make his own decisions. I asked him to help me, and he agreed. Nothing you or I can do will change that.” 

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Okay. I can respect that. Are you certain that the philosopher’s stone is the answer?” 

She shook her head, lips pursed. “No. But it’s the only lead that I have. If I can find one, or find the means to create one-“ 

He shook his head quickly. “You mustn’t endeavour to create such a thing, Allura. I’ve heard dangerous things about them.” 

She leaned forward. “What things?” 

“Death and destruction follows them. It’s top secret, even in the military. I heard whispers, during our time in Ishval. I believe they are connected.” 

She had to think on that. Her mind raced, trying to find logical connections between them. “What else did you hear?” 

“I only heard scraps of information, really. A woman named Honerva was mentioned, but I’ve never seen her. I can ask Ulaz to retrieve her file, if you wish?” 

Allura rubbed her chin in thought. “Is that allowed?” 

He raised his eyebrows, and laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m used to everyone asking for forgiveness rather than permission, it’s nice to hear someone with a good sense of law. And yes, as long as he doesn’t remove the file from the building. He’s got good memory, though, I’d be surprised if he doesn’t remember it now.” 

“Remember what?” Ulaz was tall enough that he had to duck to get through the door, taking Takashi’s hand as he sat down. 

“Honerva’s file.” 

Ulaz clicked his tongue, thinking. “Not much in her file, really. She’s a liason of the scientific investigation department, you know how they are. Even more aloof than pilots.” That last comment was accompanied by a good-natured nudging to his husband.

Takashi snorted, freeing his hand to flick his shoulder. “You take that back, medic.” 

Ulaz grinned, before turning to Allura. “You’d have more luck looking at her research. All of her notes, her published theses and scientific theories on how alchemy works, they’re stored in Central’s records. Anyone with proper identification can get to them.” He nodded to Keith. “And a State Certification certainly goes a long way.” 

She turned to Keith as well. Keith was shovelling food into his mouth at a startling speed, not appearing to be privy to their conversation. 

She turned back, not willing to watch him choke on a fishbone. “Indeed. We were just in Liore, actually. Keith’s access to military records and research resources has proven very valuable. I’m very grateful that he could be convinced to accompany me and Coran.”

Takashi folded his arm over his stomach. “So, Allura, are you from Ishval, or do you only practice Ishvalan faith?”

She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m from Ishval, yes. My father’s name was Alfor, he was a spiritual leader in the holy city.” She bowed her head. 

Ulaz looked down. “I’m sorry, for your father and for your people. I was a field medic, in the genocide. I’m glad that I wasn’t an alchemist, but what I did-“ He paused. “What we did, it’s horrific.”

She shuddered, remembering bloodthirsty grins and gleaming golden eyes. “My father always told me that true forgiveness is something rare, something that even the strongest of the strong struggle to achieve. And I’ve always been known to hold a grudge.” She looked up. “But now I can’t bring myself too. You remind me of another healer I met. His name was Sam, and he mentioned that his children were Matt and Katie. And he helped me, just as you helped your patients. I can’t fault you for something that you regret so deeply.”

Takashi sat up. “Sam? Sam Holt?” 

She blinked. “I didn’t catch his family name.” 

“That must have been him.” He leaned forward, running his hand through his hair. “He stayed, when the doctors were ordered to retreat. I remember him denying his seat on the train out, trying to make his son go, only for his son to stay as well.” He hung his head. “They’re missing in action, as of three years ago.”

She remembered the blue uniforms that had lined up the patients and the healers, threatening them with guns. She couldn’t remember if she heard screams when she and Coran had drawn their fire, or if the hostages had escaped. 

“Perhaps your search will prove fruitful, in the library,” Ulaz said, standing and collecting the plates from the table. 

“And if not, I’m sure that you’ll have found something the next time you visit,” Takashi added, standing and walking to the sink.

Allura smiled, looking to Coran. Had he a face, he would have been smiling back. 

“Thank you for your help and hospitality, Mister Shirogane.” 

He turned, smiling warmly. “That’s Shiro, to you. And thank you, for keeping Keith company.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whats up everyone its my eighteenth birthday and my cousin just bought me four shots and expected me to drink them all. Also smirnoff ice is the worst and tbere are way better coolers out there. I figured since the chapter was finished id post it. As always, constructive criticism is encouraged and appreciated! If I handled anything badly, please tell me and I’ll do my best to fix it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our first major villian is mentioned. Also, while in this story Coran has seen the Gates of Truth, he prefers drawing out the transmutation circles, and activates them hands-free. Personally, it’s something that I would do, because chalk is awesome. 
> 
> Please note: there is a scene in this chapter where Allura is stopped by a police officer, and this mirrors racial profiling in the USA. Though there is no violence or brutality, i can understand that it induces anxiety, and if you want to skip it, the starting and ending lines are bolded.

“If the philosopher’s stone doesn’t work, what else do we have?” Allura asked, stepping over puddles. Keith would be finished with his report soon, and until then, they had little to do except wander.

Coran had to think. “I’m not sure. It stands to reason that if we managed this without a philosopher’s stone, we should be able to reverse it without one too. The trouble is figuring out how.” 

“So, if we found a way to reverse-engineer human transmutation, we might be able to get your body back.” The Gates of Truth flashed before her eyes. “I don’t want to face that thing again.” 

“The Gates?” 

“Yeah, Truth, or God, or whoever they were. Something about them makes me ill.” She shuddered, remembering the agony of having the knowledge crammed into her head, and the cruelty of seeing her father’s silhouette, thinking he was alive, that they had succeeded, only for it to be snatched away.

Coran was quiet. “Do you think-“

A blue-uniformed man stepped into their path. Allura jumped back, forcing herself not to go on defence. It wouldn’t do to have to clean a military man off of the pavement, she reasoned. It would be very bad for public image. She calmed herself and readjusted her headscarf.

**Coran nodded to him. “Afternoon, Officer. How may we help you?”**

He ignored him. “Ma’am, I do apologize for the inconvenience, but you match the description for a dangerous person in the area. Would you mind answering some questions for me?” 

“Okay,” she said, heart pounding. She could imagine that the only descriptor for the dangerous person was ‘Ishvalan’. She could see the man’s gun, sitting in a holster at his hip. Easy to draw.

“Can you account for your whereabouts yesterday evening, between six and nine?” 

She stood up straight, looking him in his yellow eyes. “I was eating dinner with my friend and his family, and Coran was with me.”

The man showed no expression. He didn’t seem to care that Coran had knelt, and was marking something on the pavement, his attention on who he believed to be a threat. “Can your friend’s family confirm that?” 

She didn’t dare take her eyes off of him to see what Coran was doing, her heart pounding fearfully. Her mind raced, trying to remember what she was supposed to do. Her hands shook almost imperceptibly. 

“Allura!” She perked up and looked past the man, seeing Keith jogging up to them, out of uniform. He slowed down, looking confused, as he registered the blue dress. He came to a stop beside the officer. “Is there a problem?” 

The officer twitched, and ignored him. “Ma’am, do you have any connection to the Ishvalan Civil War?” 

Keith stepped forward. “That’s enough. Allura isn’t the fugitive.” 

The officer scowled, not looking at him. “Sir, please do not interfere with Military Police business.” 

“Interfering? You’re wrongfully questioning my friend!” He plunged his hand into his pocket, bring out his pocket watch. “That should be enough to take my word.” 

The officer scowled harder. “Sir-“ 

“Do I have to tell you again? I’m a State Alchemist, equal to a Major in rank. Allura is innocent, now leave her be!” 

**Coran stood from his kneeling position. She quickly looked down and saw that he had been drawing a transmutation circle.**

She looked up from the circle and screamed, taking a step back. 

In the alleyway, there was a massive hulking figure, made from rubble and armed with sharp blades. Her scream must have set it off: it started running in earnest, pounding the cobblestones as it neared. 

Coran tapped the circle with his foot just as the creature passed over it, activating the destruction matrix. The figure crumbled, reduced to rubble once more. The officer jumped back, paling. 

Allura crouched, sifting through the apple-sized stones. Such alchemy should have been impossible, to make autonomous structures out of stone and nothing else-

Her fingers stung as they slipped over the sharp edges of a raw gem. She closed her hand around it and brought it close to her face. Before her eyes, the philosopher’s stone dissolved, turning to dust to be carried away by the wind. 

She brushed the dust off of her hands and stood, addressing Keith. “What’s the description of that fugitive?” 

“Ishvalan woman, straight hair, approximately fifty years old.” 

Allura nodded. “Coran, sweep southeast. Keith, northeast. I’ll take the north- and southwest. Meet me back here at nightfall.” 

-

Her search was proving less than fruitful. She had systematically swept the entirety of the southwest sector, and was making her way northwest. She had found a piece of rubble with transmutation marks on it, as well as a foreign matrix, though she could tell it was one meant to create. 

She turned a corner and yelped as she ran into a wall. It was a dead-end, though she only tell by running her hands over the stone. It was getting dark, and she had a thought of heading back. 

She froze, hearing a soft tapping. Footsteps, someone light. A fifty-year-old ishvalan woman was certainly a possibility. 

A figure appeared at the mouth of the dead-ended alley she found herself in. They were stooped and moved sluggishly. Something made her mouth taste sour. 

“Who’s there?” she called. 

The figure didn’t answer. A new stone creature joined the figure, and charged toward her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, if I’ve handled anything insensitively, please tell me, and I’ll do whatever needs to be done to fix it. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is encouraged and appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, alchemy is really hard to write. Pidge officially arrives, and next chapter will see them in rush valley and possibly dublith

Allura reacted fast; her hands pressed against the stone, propelling her upward and sending her over the figure. She landed beside the canal, and readied herself for a fight. 

The figure appeared before her, moving faster than should have been possible. A hood was pulled over their head, masking all but the long strands of thin white hair that reached her chest. When the figure craned her neck up, Allura could see Ishvalan cheek markings, elongated and sharpened. Such a thing could only mean that the woman had destroyed herself in the eyes of Ishvala, and she had turned away from Her light. 

She readied herself for a fight. “Are you the one who made those creatures?” 

The figure didn’t answer. Her arm moved faster than she could track, and she only barely dodged the massive spike that flew by her shoulder. Suddenly, the woman was on her, drawing a long, curved knife. 

She yelped and jumped back, her hands flying to make sure that her headscarf and her wrap-gown were secure.

A knife clanged against her arm, chipping away the point of the blade. The woman growled and hooked something around her knees, knocking her onto the pavement. 

The woman leaned in, holding the jagged knife against her sternum. “Metal limbs, alchemy without a matrix,” she rasped. “It seems that you’re the perfect sacrifice. What did the Gates look like, little one?” 

She clasped her hands and pressed them against the stone, eroding it down to dust, making the woman slip and fall into the pit she had made. She rolled away from the edge and stood over the pit, transmuting a staff. 

“The Gates of Truth? That information is far too valuable to give away,” she panted. “I’ll tell you if you tell me about your philosopher’s stone.” 

The figure hummed. Within one blink and the next, she was far too close, her hand rearing back and ready to strike. “Or I could just torture it out of you-“ 

She didn’t finish her sentence, a disembodied boot having connected with her face. Allura whipped around, focussing on Keith in the alleyway, standing at the edge of the collapsed walkway. He was missing a shoe.

The woman snarled and and slammed her hands against the stone walkway. The stone crumbled, sending up dust clouds and giant slabs of stone. The ground rocked beneath Allura’s feet, and it was all she could do to cling to the stone.

When the air became clear, she was left balancing on top of a jutting spire of crumbled stone. Moving the wrong way would send her falling into pits of sharp, jagged stone. 

“Allura!” Coran shouted from the mouth of the alley. “Are you all right?” 

_”Ana bekhair!”_ She took a measured step, and promptly lost her footing. She slipped down the rain-slicked stone, landing at the bottom with a dented pride and no other injuries. She frowned and rubbed the small of her back, working away the ache. She frowned and waved away Keith’s helping hand, pushing herself to her feet.

The military police were working at the edges of the destroyed canal walkway. One made her way over, picking across unstable rubble and struggling to look dignified as she slipped this way and that. She eventually made it over, and readjusted her uniform with no change in expression, nodding to Keith. “Berserker.” 

He snorted and nodded back. “Pidge.” 

The girl, Pidge, looked back at the rubble. “Was this the person of interest?” 

“Yep.” He pointed his chin to Allura. “She got into a fight.” 

Allura scoffed. “It was not a fight, it was a scuffle, at best. And what was I supposed to do? She attacked me!” 

Pidge clicked her heels together and inclined her head in greeting. “Pidge Gunderson, ma’am. Circuit Alchemist. And you?” 

“Allura, Allura Mokrani. I’m borrowing Keith’s overenthusiastic salary.” 

Pidge laughed, sharp and loud. Allura couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew her from somewhere, but she couldn’t place where. “We’re excellent for that.” She pointed at the dust pit. “Was that you?” 

“I suppose, some of it.”

“Impressive. Are you not a State Alchemist yourself?” 

As if a shutter was thrown shut, she hunched in on herself, tugging the loosened collar of her headscarf over her nose. “No. I don’t associate with the military unless I have to.” 

Pidge blinked in confusion, looking to Keith. He shook his head, lips pressed together. 

Pidge inclined her head. “Apologies, Miss Mokrani. I’ve overstepped.” 

“It’s fine, all fine.” She shook off her discomfort, and turned to Keith. “You’ve reported in?” 

He hummed. “Everything’s in order, we can leave for Rush Valley.” 

Pidge blinked up at Keith. “Rush Valley?” 

“Yeah, Allura needs a tune-up, and then we’re moving on to Dublith. I’m looking into gang activity as a favour for the colonel.” 

“Good old Kolivan. Do you three mind if I tag along?” She turned her gaze to Allura and Coran in turn. “I have errands to run in the valley, and apparently I’m ‘too young’ to go alone.” 

She cocked her head. “How young are you?” 

“Fourteen. Youngest State Alchemist in Amestrian history, at twelve years old.”

“I definitely need to find out how you managed that. Please come with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is encouraged and appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> So its my design choice for the Ishvalans to have cheek-markings instead of red eyes, because brown-eyed Allura is a gift to all of us and we should be greatful. And I’m not entirely sure how I’ll progress the story from here, but ill figure it out as i go along. If the things still broken, this will be more than one chapter.  
> Thanks for reading, constructive criticism is encouraged and appreciated.


End file.
